Walking around the suburbs of Berlin during the fiercely cold winter, I came across a small book shop next to the bar I had found. I was four weeks drunk. In the bookshop I found Anders Petersen's complete 'Monographie'. The Swedish photographer has long been a favourite for me, the man is obsessive with his camera. Petersen photographs the extremes of his life and the extremes of others'. From child-birth and lovers to prison Petersen does not stop. Unlike some other photographers, Petersen's images do not attempt to bathe the photographer in glory, he is not making trophies of what he photographs; his pictures are lonely. The retrospective 'Mongraphie' never shows the pictures of a content man. The pictures in this book are sensitive and the subjects are intimate. All who come in front of Petersen's lens have taken off their guard, even the sex is loving and playful. Petersen's camera seems to me to be an extension of the man himself. For this reason, Petersen is one of the few photographers whom I feel is worth following.